Vegan. Not Vegan. Vegan again. Maybe.
You guys, I really, really want to keep food unfussy, but sometimes it sounds fussy.
Meat, no eggs
When I run through the list of things I don’t eat – it certainly sounds fussy.
But to keep it real, my attitude about it needs to stay cool.
I believe we should all eat whatever the hell we want. I don’t give a flying frisbee what you eat and I’ll never give you heck for it.
So why am I talking to you about this today? Because I’m a big believer in telling stories. And it might just be what someone needs to hear today.
Let’s get you up to speed
Back in 2010, we all nixed dairy. An Ear Nose and Throat (ENT) specialist wanted to chop Jacob’s tonsils out and stick tubes in his ears. He wasn’t even two yet you guys. Mama bear had to find some answers. Thankfully, I didn’t have to look far, or long. Stop number two after the ENT office was a naturopath in the same building where I was getting massages (side note, in Canada, most companies give you an annual massage allowance).
Me with my monthly sinus infections and farts every time I look at yogurt. Jacob with his vomity past, spitting up after every snack since birth, constant mouth breathing (though Ry attributes this to his Canadian-ness), and back-to-back-to-back sinus infections, bronchitis, and antibiotics.
Our naturopath said, “try avoiding dairy for a few weeks then reintroduce it and see how you do”. I had some ice cream after a few weeks and wanted to die. Jacob was doing so much better without it I didn’t bother reacquainting him with cow secretions (sounds gross, but really you guys – that’s what it is.) Read the full story here.
Reality (fact) check:
- 6 years later, both Jacob and I haven’t had a sinus infection and haven’t needed antibiotics (though he does get the stink eye from time to time – kids are gross yo)
- Talia, approaching 5, has never had a glass of milk, or yogurt, though she sometimes sneaks some goldfish under the bleachers like a rebel – has NEVER needed antibiotics
- Jacob and I still breathe through our mouths when we’re thinking hard, writing (me), or playing video games (J)
Feeling a gazillion times better after keeping dairy off our plates, I removed meat. Same thing – I just felt better. Until I didn’t.
I was vegan until I wasn’t. I woke up one day and just wanted a steak. So I had one.
Now, I’m being forced to say I’m vegan again.
PETA is not sitting here with a gun to my head, but I’ve been forced to answer some hard questions that leave me with no choice.
The big one:
If I can’t kill it myself, what right do I have eating it?
See, my backyard is growing a farm. Ryan leaves the house for coffee, ends up at the local Tractor Supply Company (TSC) for PVC pipe, returns with 6 chicks. Returns 2 weeks later for chicken feed, returns with 2 ducklings. At least he returned with what he set out to get. The PVC he needed on trip one had to wait for another day.
As Jacob read a bedtime story to the chicks, Ry explained this is where chicken wings come from.
Drop the mic.
What???? Even though we had told him where chicken nuggets come from a thousand times, once he had named the baby chickens, the thought of eating them was absurd.
He proclaimed, “I’m never eating anything with the word chicken in it ever again.”
Until of course, his hockey team heads to Buffalo Wild Wings for lunch. Nugget what?
When Ry told the kids what was going to happen when they were done laying eggs – something about chopping their heads off, Jacob screamed, “NO!” while Talia (4) had a face of, tell me more about this beheading business daddy, and “when do I get to chop their heads off?” may or may not left her mouth.
Then, I had bison spaghetti for dinner, and steak in my salad for lunch the next day.
Jacob had a half rack of ribs.
All of us.
This is what Ry called us. I couldn’t argue – he was right.
The thought of killing a chicken, duck or even a larger animal like a cow or pig myself, at my hand – be it a flick of my wrist, makes me shudder. I couldn’t do it. I don’t need to try to know I couldn’t.
So should I pay someone else to do it for me?
I feel like I’d be taking the easy way out.
And totally detached. From my food, from life, from myself.
Detaching is easy. And hey – if you can kill your dinner yourself, cook it and eat it – I admire that. Honestly, if you can do it, that’s cool.
I can’t. So I don’t think I should eat it.
If I do, it makes me a big, fat, hypocrite.
Why am I telling you this today?
I don’t want to convince you to join the V team. Even when I “wasn’t vegan” – I was like 95% vegan.
I’m curious about what the kids will decide when they see their first chicken being killed for meat. In the end, they’re going to eat whatever they want – and they should. In the meantime, though, if I’m cooking, which is 99.9999% of the time – they’re having vegetables.
I’m curious what they’ll lean towards eating when one parent will eat anything and the other is more selective.
Unjudgy, unfussy. Keep it curious.
PS – I’m not vegan anymore and vegan and an omnivore sittin’ in a tree…